


Claimed

by Caius



Series: That TFP MegOP Porn AU [4]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Finger in Mouth Kink, Hand & Finger Kink, Implied Aft Port Sex, Implied Sticky Sexual Interfacing, M/M, Marking, Mild Blood / Energon Play, Public Display of Affection, Sexual Exhaustion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 12:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16933524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caius/pseuds/Caius
Summary: It's not only his mate's spike that Megatron enjoys.Originally posted on Tumblr June 26, 2015, for Spaceliquid, who asked what I think about Megatron sucking Optimus' fingers, or having his mouth finger-fucked.





	Claimed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spaceliquid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceliquid/gifts).



Only Megatron saw Optimus’ spike. His mate was possessive, and even if the Prime had wanted to take another lover, Megatron’s insatiable desires left his spike exhausted and sore, his fluid tanks dry, with no desire or ability even to self-service.

So no one else got to see the light scrapes on his spike from over-eager teeth or the faint rings left by the repeated tight squeeze of Megatron’s aft and valve calipers. 

But everyone saw Optimus’ hands. 

Everyone saw the faint traces of teeth that Megatron left on them, that Optimus had given up on covering up – unless he wanted Megatron to pin him down and attack his hands with his mouth, working him over for an hour until he was begging Megatron to suck him, ride him, anything to let him overload.

…Sometimes Optimus painted and polished them up specially so that Megatron would do just that.

Sometimes Megatron would be sitting next to him, in public, talking about the future of Cybertron, and he would take Optimus’ wrist (and Optimus wouldn’t even think of struggling, millions of years of war reflexes trained away already) and casually work his fingers over with his tongue and lips and teeth. Megatron would only stop when something to say, and then he would pull his mouth away and Optimus’ hand casually, possessively, in front of his chest, showing emphatically that Optimus was his.

Optimus’ face would burn under his mask, and his spike would strain under his panel, but he would not pull his hand away.

Megatron’s touch, his possession, made his spark sing as it had not since the Matrix took him away, so long ago.

Some nights, when Optimus’ spike was drained dry and all of Megatron’s touches couldn’t bring it back up for him to suck or ride, Optimus would press his fingers in deep, stretching Megatron’s mouth even wider than his spike did, pressing blunt down deep into his intake, finger-fucking Megatron’s mouth as red optics glowed up at him in lust, claws wrapping around Optimus’ forearm to encourage him deeper, guiding his strokes down into the flexible tubing.

As he got more eager and more careless, Megatron’s sharp teeth drew small of amounts energon from Optimus’ hand, and Optimus’ pain was soothed immediately by tongue and intake. Megatron drank Optimus’ energon as eagerly and happily as his transfluid.

When Megatron was finally satisfied, he would curl up around his Prime, two or three fingers still in his mouth, Megatron’s own claws curled between his Prime’s legs, making clear which of his Prime’s parts belonged to him even in recharge.

Optimus never thought he could sleep like that, with his fingers just one bite away from being detached altogether. Even Orion had not dreamed of it – but Megatronus had always been so gentle with Orion, never showing him the hunger he so eagerly lavished on Optimus.

Optimus probably would not have slept, the first few times, if Megatron had not so thoroughly exhausted him; and after a few weeks of awakening to an eager mouth on his fingers which soon became an eager mouth on his spike, he came to crave it.

The first time they were separated, Optimus looked forward to a long night of rest, but his berth was so cold without Megatron’s heat around him. Before he thought of it, he had one of his own hands pressed to his lips, the other between his legs, tracing his lips and tongue and fingers over the marks Megatron had left him, reading the spacing of Megatron’s dentes in the scrapes on fingers and spike, the depth of Megatron’s intake in the ring of dents around his wrist, the placement of valve and aft calipers in the irregular rings around his spike.

Until this he’d never had the chance to think about how thoroughly Megatron had marked him, possessed him, and it should have been terrifying, still _was_ terrifying, deep in the back of his mind, but as he guided his fingers between his own blunt Autobot dental plates, memorizing the marks Megatron had left him, he knew Megatron would be back.

And in his spark, it made it all okay.


End file.
